Bonfire
by Nakaru Uzumaki
Summary: This place is wretched. I hate it. It disgusts me to no end. Everyone's hostile and I've fucking HAD it. Things are gonna change. And that's not a threat. It's a promise. Rated M for all the dastardly deeds ahead.
1. Sword and Shield

_**Bonfire**_

 _ **A/N: Happy Holidays! Sorry, I know it's been a while but I've had a lot of things to contend and deal with. Namely life, for starters. And I still am and always will be, so these updates will mostly be few and far between but here's one that I've been working on for a while and I'm really proud of it so I hope you guys like it. Now, with that out of the way I proudly present Bonfire!**_

 _Sword and Shield_

" _Hold… hold on… I just wanna… point out… you're big!"_

 _~A Lost Soul._

It was calm.

The atmosphere was cool, collected.

The Fire Keeper sat upon the steps of the shrine, staring at the unlit bonfire, not with her eyes, but with her soul. Despite the lack of fire, she could feel the lingering embers waiting to ignite. She sighed quietly to herself. That same sensation similar to that of longing had managed to creep up on her just as it had the day before and the one before that. It had been a significant amount of time since that last chosen had rose up to face the Lords of Cinder and she'd fallen all too quickly at the hands of Gundyr, the guardian, the right of passage for all the Chosen Undead who'd woke and walked the grain of dirt upon the grounds of the earth. But, she had faith. The Fire Keeper had hope that the next chosen would rise up and walk the lands of Lothric again.

Soon…

 _(...)_

" _Ugh…"_

It was slow, the rise from his slumber was. Arisen from the ashes as a new being, he walked the earth, one foot after the other, dry lips parting to allow coarse lungs to breath in the heavy air of the atmosphere. He'd yet to learn, but from his rise all manner of creatures had awoken, stirred by the scent of the flame.

" _Ooh, my head…"_

But this one was different.

" _Anyone get the number of that truck that bashed into me?"_

 _He was otherworldly._

Opening his eyes for the first time in a long time, he took in his surroundings, bright orbs of saffron darting from side to side as he recollected his thoughts. "Okay, Conner, where in the actual fuck are you?" Rolling his shoulders and reveling in the satisfying pop, he stood to his full height, grunting as his bones stretched and groaned. "You were in your dorm and you were…" he stepped forward, his black boots crunching the pebbles beneath him. "You were late for class. So you grabbed your phone and your-

He cut himself off, eyes widening.

The blackette spun on his heel, looking to where he'd woken from and, low and behold, there it was. The bag he had grown so accustomed to lay there, covered in dirt, no in soot rather. "… bookbag." Bending down to grab it, he dusted it off, coughing lightly before momentarily staring at it, taking in the faded red of the straps as he sat and opened it up. His notepad sat there, contempt and unmoving along with a black inked pen, a thick sharpie, and a pad of different colored sticky notes. Zipping it back up, he stood, slinging his arms through it and tightening the straps so it wouldn't hang loose from his shoulders. Adjusting the collar of his white v-neck, he plunged a hand into the side pocket of his jeans and retrieved his phone, pressing the home button and unlocking it with his fingerprint, sighing in relief when he watched the home screen slide into view. Putting it back to sleep, he slid it into his pocket and pushed forward, using a hand to lean on the wall beside him.

 _Clang._

He paused when he felt something underfoot. Looking down, he reached for the object and picked up the sword by the hilt, staring intently at it, rotating it as the glare of the sun reflected off of the surprisingly clean iron blade. And then another glint in the corner of his eye caught his attention. To his left, leaning neatly against a rock, lay a traditional knight shaped shield, a tantalizing circular faded blue crest watching him expectantly. "This is…" he spoke softly to himself, cautiously walking over to the object, looking around it for any sign of a trap. Curiosity did kill the cat and Conner was smart enough to not take too many risks in this unfamiliar place. "You know what." he made up his mind and laid the sword down next to the shield. "I don't wanna take this and get fucked up in case it belongs to someone."

Sighing through his nose, he walked forward and saw a dead end.

" _Grooaahh…"_

The golden eyed boy stiffened at the foreign sound. The unearthly groan shook him to the very core and left him frozen in fear, as he turned to the right in an almost robotic-like manner. Just as quickly as he saw the origin of the sound did he duck underneath a wild swing before he stepped back, a kick powered by pure reflex propelling his foe away. Then he got a good look at the creature and he immediately wished he hadn't. Soulless black eyes stared at him from within sunken sockets upon a grey face drained of any and all vitality. A corpse looking to be brought back from the grave by an omnipotent force groaned at him in what sounded like an emotion akin to… longing as it retrieved a dagger from its tattered and faded violet cloak.

"Ha…"

It lumbered toward the frozen teen in a most intimidating manner, bony fingers tightening around the hilt of the jagged knife.

"…haa…"

A finger twitched.

Then a leg.

"AHH!"

Turning on his heel, he ran the other way, back to where he came from. "What is that thing?!" He picked up speed. "A zombie?! No! It can't be-?!" Tripping over a stone he tumbled, getting a face full of dirt.

 _Clang!_

"Oof!"

Twisting onto his back, he sat up and wiped the dirt from his face, calming himself as check himself for any cuts or lacerations. Finding every part of himself intact, he stood shakily from fear. And a very rational one it was! A live-ha!-zombie! In the flesh! He began hyperventilating just at the thought of such a creature being more real than myth. No, it had to be a dream. That had to be it, there was no other way.

"Yeah.", Conner told himself. "that's gotta be it."

Pinch.

"..."

Pinch.

"..."

 _Piiinch._

"Grooaahh…"

The inhumane sound silenced his oncoming hiss as he froze once more. With wide eyes and dilated pupils, he looked up and saw that menacing creature turning its head to regard him, drinking in his fear with a delight the teen just knew it had. Then, as if it were a godsend, a sparkling object in the corner of his vision caught his eye.

The sword.

In all its shining, iron glory it sat there, alongside the shield and was it… staring at him? No, his fear was getting to him. Scrambling for the piercing object, he grabbed its hilt with both hands, rising to his feet in the process. "Alright, c'mere, you impossiblity." Steeling his resolve, he breathed in a slow, calm manner. Raising the surprisingly light sword to eye level, the raven-haired boy watched as the creature lumbered toward him and he could've sworn those eyeless hole glinted for a moment there.

"GROOAHH!"

"YOU'RE MINE!"

The instant the mistake of nature began running toward him, he wound the sword up behind his head like a baseball bat and swung with all the might he could muster. An almost quiet squelching sound elicited from the creature as the smooth metal glided through its neck like a hot knife through butter. Gooey, onyx viscera sprayed out in every direction, narrowly missing the teen before its head rolled off its shoulders altogether, leaving the limp body to follow suit and take its place next to the head on the ashen ground.

"Whew…

He breathed out a sigh of relief, dropping his hands to his sides in exhaustion. He'd never been so exhilarated in such a short amount of time before and to be honest, he felt like it was too much to handle. He tapped the creature's body with his boot in fear of it getting up after he turned his back. He was left with a surprised expression and yet another sigh of relief when the monster poofed out of existence, a small black cloud of ashes signaling its last moments in Lothric.

"Well.", he blinked. "I guess that answers that."

He looked down at the sword and glanced at the shield.

"I hope there aren't anymore."

There were, in fact, more.

By the time he encountered the third one with a flaming crossbow, he'd found himself numbed by it, if only by a little. Raising the shield at such an angle out of pure instinct, he listened to the telltale sound of the weak bolt shattering against the steel of the shield before removing it from view just as quickly, a swift thrust of the blade between the enemy's eyes rendering it nothing more than a pile of dry ashes upon the earth. Conner watched it get pushed away in the oncoming breeze with an eerily calm expression.

Wiping the sweat from his brow with his forearm, he pressed on, walking up the broken steps and out into the unwavering sunlight. "Whoa." Massive, snow-peaked mountains stretched out as far as the eye could see, leaving a massive world ready for exploration open to him. But, what really caught his eye was that imposing tower that stood in the middle of it all, the ruins piercing the heavens before his very eyes. Maybe he could get some answers there. Setting it as a point of interest in the back of his mind, he trailed the path leading up to it with his amber orbs and found he was already on the right track to get there. Pushing ever onward, the college bound teen spotted a sword sticking from the ground in all its coiled glory.

Walking up to it hesitantly, he stabbed his sword into the ground and clipped the lightweight shield onto his bag, walking around it, examining it with his young scientific mind. That's when he found the message. Scrawled onto the floor with what looked to have been their bare hands laid a message and a small flickering voice in the back of his mind told him it was there for him.

" _Ignite the fire. Pour your very essence into the embers and rekindle your flame."_

Cocking a brow at it, he held a hand out to the sword nonetheless and grasped it by the hilt, but, instead of pulling it from the earth as one would imagine he'd try to do, he pushed it deeper into the ashes piled by the blade, watching as the tongues of a flame long since burned out seemed to ignite themselves, licking at the air, warming the world.

 _And thus, the first bonfire was lit._

Staring at it a moment longer, he picked his own blade from the ground and pressed on, courage building in his chest when he saw the next zombified soul charge at him, dagger in hand. Angling his shield, he allowed the attack to sheer off to the side harmlessly. Twirling around the enemy with a familiar agileness to his step he didn't know he had, he plunged the blade through his adversary's gut to the hilt with a sharp and swift battecry, ending its life- _or at least, what'd become of it._

"Where did all of these things come from?"

Letting the blade drag along the ground as he trudged on, he hopped down off of a ledge and landed on top of what looked like a rather large and faded olive green coffin. He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A glowing, pearly white ball of energy hovered before him, lifted just slightly so above the rotted corpse sitting there. Curious, he leaned toward it, reached a hand out. Like a symbiotic life form, it shot to his palm, disappearing in a flash. Then, a voice flooded his senses.

 _I was a warrior, proud and true._

"What the hell?!", he looked around frantically. "Who's there?!"

…

When the voice didn't proceed, he piped down, awaiting it's return.

 _But, I fell at the hands of Gundyr. Do not underestimate his halberd or your own end shall be swift._

He paused, blinking when the voice and it's presence faded, a new sense of empowerment flooding his entirety as he thought about what he heard. Gundyr? Who the hell is that? He shrugged to himself, hefting the large yet light blade upon his shoulder. Conner supposed he'd meet him soon enough. A halberd, eh? That was a sort of polearm wasn't it? "Hope he's not some random asshole." Hopping down a ledge, he plunged the blade through the skull of yet another zombified entity, sighing as the creature all but melted into a pile of ashes at his feet.

 _Ting!_

The flaming arrow shattered against the wall behind him, splintering as it fell into the ashes below. "Oh, I've so had enough of _all_ of you!" A step forward allowed his diagonal downward slash to eat through the bones and the little bit of flesh still clinging to the zombie's body, slicing through its body with ease from its right shoulder down to the left hip, dragging out a spatter of inky black viscera. Slowly, the top half of the entity's body slide off the rest and flopped to the ground with a disgusting squelch of a sound before both halves exploded in a harmless plume of black smoke.

A big stone archway stood tall before him, erected from the earth in a manner that floored him, left him intimidated. Walking through the broken stone construction he stepped down the stairs with some trepidation, eyes widening at the sight before him.

A massive construct of armor kneeled before him in what looked like an arena filled with candles that seemed to have been burning forever and would continue to do so unless some massive executive order was screwed with on an omnipotent level. Regardless, Conner found himself paying attention to every step, every twitch of every single muscles- _his and any belonging to his object of interest_ -as he made his way over to it. A massive halberd made of some material that looked to be a cross between iron and some kind of stone, just like the set of armor, stood erect from the earth beside it, as though someone stuck it there. Just then, that ominous voice returned.

" _Release the blade and prepare for a battle."_

He blinked.

Blade?

What bla-?

Then he saw it.

The rusted coiled blade stuck from the hulking creature's chest, digging deep into its heart. He cringed at the sight of it. That must've been excruciating. But, what did that voice mean, "prepare for a fight?" Prepare for a fight from where? Was there someone hiding somewhere nearby? Eyes darting left to right, Conner tried his best to survey his surroundings without being too obvious before he sighed. He was overthinking this, he had to be. "Here, bud. I'll help you out." Stabbing his own straight sword into the ground and clipping the shield onto his bookbag, he gripped the twisted sword with both hands, knuckles whitening as he tightened his hands around them. And then he heaved. Without supreme effort, he drawed the blade from its chest, looking away when a gush of fresh life essence poured from the wound, thick crimson liquid dribbling from the deep trench in its body. Then it twitched. He stood stock straight, frozen in fear as it stood to its full height, filled with energy, pulling the halberd from the earth. It towered over him easily, its dwarfing size blotting out the light of the sun itself. Angling its head down to look at him, it stared ominously, glowing scarlet orbs peering into his soul. Then it looked over to his sword, piercing the ground as it was. Did it… did it want to give him a fair fight?

 _I fell at the hands of Gundyr. Do not underestimate his halberd or your own end shall be swift._

Conner took a step back at the sound of the broken warrior's voice ringing through his mind once more. He looked the spear up and down once more. Long and protruding, you can bet your life it was intimidating, but he wasn't ready to bet his. "Look, ah… G-Gundyr right?" When it seemed to react to the name, he nodded to himself. "Can we just talk about this? Please?" He seemed to almost considered the offer, as contemplative as he looked behind all that armor, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Suddenly, a low growl escaped his diaphragm before Gundyr grew erratic, shaking and twitching. Then, before his very eyes, the goliath dropped to his knees again, wrapping its arms around himself. "H-hey, are you alright?" The teen reached out a hand to place on Gundyr's shoulder, but with speed the boy didn't know the other had, Gundyr reached up and grabbed him by the wrist, looking him in the eye.

" _Kill me."_

When the voice pervaded his mind, he was more shocked at the request than the fact that it was there at all. A thick, black ooze began to seep from the chinks in his armor, pouring out onto the ground and piling up into deep onyx chunks at their feet. When it seemingly became alive and started to crawl up Gundyr's legs, he grew frantic, pulling Conner closer.

" _Kill me please!"_

The teen pulled his hand away from Gundyr. He could see what was happening here. Did he know what it was? Absolutely not, not a sliver of a clue to what was transpiring before his very eyes came to mind. The voice was quiet, content so all he could hear was the slopping sounds of the ooze and his own thoughts racing to and fro. Subconsciously, he picked his sword from the earth and looked Gundyr in the and he swore he saw him smile; it was sad but it was there. Placing the tip of his blade to the hole where the coiled sword was originally. In a way a rapier user would charge, Conner slid forward, a foreign force compelling him to do so, plunging the blade deep into his chest, so much so that the blade ripped its way out of Gundyr's back. Leaning in next to the halberd-wielder, he whispered solemn words to him, words that both were and weren't his.

"I hope you are reborn happily in your next life."

" _Thank you…"_

Then hulking mass of armor keeled over the blade and promptly exploded in a blast of powerful wind as his ashes feel to the earth below. The sight of it alone made the boy drop to his own knees.

He stayed there for a long time.


	2. The Shrine

**_Bonfire_**

 ** _A/N: Hey guys! It's been a bit, but I did say that updates wouldn't come right after the other, didn't I? This chapter should give you a bit of a feel on where this story is going to be headed, but don't start making assumptions right away. Stories aren't really stories without a twist, right? Anyway, I proudly present the second chapter of Bonfire, The Shrine!_**

 _The Shrine_

" _You can… hear them?"_

 _~?_

 _Fwoosh!_

The dusty ashes piled up within the center of the Firelink Shrine suddenly sparked, flames igniting themselves. Combusting with the atmosphere itself seemingly being the catalyst, tongues of reds and oranges and yellows licked at the air. Startled as she was, the Fire Keeper looked up from the floor, her blind eyes staring intently at the bonfire through her intricately designed visor. The outline of the living flames' aura stared back at her, unwavering in the face of its tender warmth. Unclasping her hands from one another, she walked forward, a smile gracing her lips as she approached the fire. Delighting in the warmth of the flame, she stood in silence.

It wouldn't be long now.

" _Oh fuck!"_

A loud clang shattered the rhythmic beats of the blacksmith at the back of the shrine, as the voice reverberated through the otherwise quiet building. Shuffling was heard as well as another string of obscenities before the distant sound of a dog was heard. The bark of the undead hound bounced off the walls of the shrine before suddenly quieting. And then the next piece of excitement shouted through the Firelink.

" _Gods, fu-woah!"_

That was when he came tumbling- _literally!_ -into the shrine.

 _Clang!_

"Oof!"

Flopping like a fish out of water, the boy, appearing no older than his late teens, plopped onto the ashy stone at her feet. The vibrations by her bare feet sent a genuine smile to her face as she angled her head down to face the Chosen Undead sprawled at her feet. "Ah shit… doesn't anything not wanna kill me around… here…?" Mid-sentence, he found himself looking up, staring into the face of pure beauty. Long pearly white locks framing a flawless heart-shaped face, accompanied by an articularly designed visor, all the while those full pink lips smiled down at him, as if the rays of the sun itself had bestowed an angel upon him. "Beautiful…" She hid the blush rather well, so he figured he'd kept the compliment to himself as intended. Subsequently not acting on those words, he stood up, disregarding the blade and shield a ways away from him as he stared deeply at her. "H-hello?" The greeting was timid considering the hell he'd been through to get there. Having had too say goodbye with his own sword to someone living in a veritable hell all the way to getting smacked around by an undead dog.

It was a less than favorable experience to say the least.

"Welcome to the bonfire, Unkindled One."

Her sweet smile mesmerized him, but the name she called him by gave him pause. ' _Unkindled One?'_ He backed up, giving her some breathing room when she began walk past him. She seemed to look back at him over her shoulder despite the blindness that plagued her due to the visor as she started again.

"I am a Fire Keeper, I tend to the flame and tend to thee."

Gliding her bare feet across the cool stone of the shrine, she came across the bundle of ash gathered in the center of it all, a small smile gracing her pale features. "The Lords have left their thrones, and must be delivered to them. To this end, I am at thy side."

It was then that she gestured to the pile of ashes."Produce the coiled sword at the bonfire. The mark of ash will guide thee to the land of the Lords. To Lothric, where the homes of the Lords converge."

He walked up next to her taking in the information as he stared at the glowing ashes below, watching as sparks jumped excitedly at him, small tongues of flames licking at the air as if they were waiting for something. For _him_ to do something. Then the words sank in. "Coiled sword…" he barely noticed when she turned to him as he thought about it. Eyes widening, Conner turned to face her. "You mean the sword I pulled from-!" He choked on the name, a small sob fleeing his lips when he thought back to it.

"… you mean the sword I pulled from Gundyr."

She nodded, facing him expectantly. "Indeed, Unkindled One. But, I sense sorrow in the voice of thee. Why is that?" The teen looked down, the sad memory from not too long ago resurfacing. He glanced back up at the entrance to the shrine, a flashback of him stabbing the blade into the stony earth as his resting place bubbling through his mind as a painful reminder of the goliath's struggled existence. He hadn't know him long but he considered the sickened entity to be a dear friend. And to upset his grave… he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"There was something wrong with him.", Conner began. "Something twisted was tearing him up inside. H-he asked me to kill him." A tear dribbled down his cheek when another sob rocked him to the core. He held back the rest of the tears, refusing to let the waterworks flow as he strained to see through them into the small embers tickling the ashes at his feet. It wasn't just Gundyr. Now that he had a sane person to stand by, to talk with without fear of getting ripped to shreds at a moment's notice, he let his heart finally wrench. His family, his friends, his _world-because this definitely wasn't it-_ was gone. But, a shred of hope did live in his soul of souls, a piece of his subconscious screaming at him that there was a way to get back from here, from Lothric.

His ears picked up a sound then, or rather, a lack thereof. He hadn't noticed it before but now that it stopped, his mind began to pay attention to it as he wiped his tears. An incessant clanging, a sound akin to hard steel smashing against more iron, had stopped, leaving the shrine quiet, allowing all within to listen to his sorrows. The teen turned, surprise filling his features when he saw a rather burly man at the end of the hall before him, shirtless and crouching over an anvil, a large hammer clutched tightly within his palm. The built man stared out at him, general curiosity and shock glistening within his glossed brown eyes.

Never in his life had Andre felt such despair, such _raw emotion_ from an undead. They were normally shells of their former selves, brought back by the flames to bring the Lords home in order to extend the Age of Fire. They were always more hollow than human whether they actually were or not. But this one… intrigued him. He felt remorse for putting Gundyr down? That was well more than enough to stop him from sharpening the blade set before him. So he stared down the corridor past the Handmaiden out at the Ashen One. The echoing of him clashing his hammer against the anvil finally ceased after so long and the silence seemed to reach the Undead's ears because he turned around and looked straight at him.

The blacksmith shivered at that look.

Those bright, fiery amber orbs seemed to look through him while those tears evaporated into the air. Andre knew there was reason behind the emotion. Those eyes told a story that lived through ages. As did the clothes he wore. He couldn't see all of it, but he could tell enough.

"W-who are you…?"

The burly man closed his eyes and smiled when the question was asked. Raising a hand, he gestured for the young man to come over. Boots he'd never seen before tapped lightly against the shrine floor as he made his way over to his corner of the sacred place. "Aye, sit." Carefully, almost cautiously, Conner sat, crossing his legs all the while keeping his eyes on the man who looked to be something of a blacksmith in his eyes. "The name's Andre. Been a smith all my life, nothing more, nothing less."

Ah, he was right then.

"I'll get to the chase prithee.", his thick accent brought him from his reverie. "You're not undead, are ye?"

He blinked.

"I'll be honest, I don't even know where I am."

Now it was Andre's turn to be lost. Didn't know where he was? It was unheard of. The spirit of the flame always provided them with at least that much information when they awoke. But, that just served to prove his point even more. "This be the Firelink Shrine. Yer in Lothric, land of the kings and home of the Lords."

Conner was just in upstate New York, getting ready for his first college class of the day. What in god's name was a Lothric? All this information just made his heart sink more. He'd long since ruled out the possibility of having gone insane back when he'd been centimeters from taking a scorching arrow to the knee, so that just meant this was all real. He began rubbing his temples when he felt the migraine coming on. Too much. Too much. Too much. Brain overloading, he fell on his back laying on the floor despite Andre sitting right in front of him.

That's when it hit him.

The epiphany.

If he was here, with no present way to get back home, he could go along with what that woman said.

"Hey.", Conner sat up, a new resolve burning in those saffron orbs. "Who are the Lords?"

The blacksmith chuckled and the teen was left puzzled at his mirth. "You may find your answer if you check their thrones." The amber-eyed boy turned to look past the Fire Keeper when Andre pointed past him with a lone, callus finger. Keeping his gaze centered on the center of the shrine, he stood beginning to walk away before faltering in a single step as he realized something.

' _No one here's gonna give me a straight answer are they?'_

Sighing, he made his way over to the other side of the shrine and found himself looking up at the five chairs before him, laid out in a semi-circle around Firelink as if they were guarding it, protecting it from the foul evil outside even. Then, he noticed him and the teen nearly jumped out of skin. In the chair, the second one from the right, sat a small age-old man. Having noticed himself with a bit of attention, the small man looked down from his perch, eyeing the boy curiously before giving a weak wave, a small grin adorning his features. Conner was quick to climb the stairs to his throne when the wrinkled fellow gestured him to do so. Dropping down onto the ledge, He circled the seat and stood before him, a curious expression regarding him as he did so.

Then he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Ah, a seeker of the Lords… as well as an Unkindled. Splendid. I am Ludleth of Courland." The boy with the eyes of flame gave him a weird look then, tilting his head in confusion. "Look not in bewilderment as I say… I linked the fire long ago, becoming a Lord of Cinder. If substantiation be thy want, set thine eyes upon my charred corpse. This sad cadv'r. No need to be coy, go on."

Another fucking riddle. Substantiation? Charred corpse? Putting his hand to his head, he groaned at the migraine's grand return. Then the rest of his words snak in. "Wait, you're a lord?" The thought confused him as much. If he was supposed to return the lords to their thrones, why did the Keeper put it in such a manner that seemed like it was an impossible feat?

Ludleth nodded, "Indeed I am, young Unkindle-

"And another thing!", he said it a tad more forcefully than he wanted when he cut off the small lord if the way he flinched was any indication. "Oh, sorry about that.", recovering, the crowned elder nodded. "But, yeah. What's an Unkindled?"

Ah, there it was. The surprise. He'd seen it in Andre but a few moments ago when he'd declared his lack of knowledge about his surroundings and here it was again now that he'd openly stated he had no idea what an Unkindled was.

"Thou who has failed to link the fire in the past to become cinder hath burned to naught but ash. Thou exist to inherit the past and put an end to this cumulative tale."

' _Those who failed to link the Fire burned to ash…'_

"Wait, so I'm dead?!", Conner could finally wipe hyperventilating off of his bucket list. That was when his slow brain once again decided to catch up just as he calmed his breathing. "So, I tried to link the fire, whatever that means, before and I failed?", the small Lord nodded. "But, that's impossible I'm from New York and I've never heard of a fire being linked, at least not in the way you're describing it."

Briefly, the teen noticed the confused look on Ludleth's visage, but he quickly hid it, refusing to voice his actions.

Then he smiled.

"An adventure's nothing if you get all the answers before you even embark on it."

A blank stare met with the small Lord's gaze and briefly he wondered if he'd broken the Unkindled. On the other end, Conner found himself dumbfounded at the elderly man's smug answer. The small flame within sparked and grew to a formidable size in all but an instant as he just stared at him. Amber orbs blazed with a rage he didn't know he had and suddenly a sentence leapt from his lips that surprised all within the shrine, even him to some extent.

"Excuse me, but are you fucking kidding me?"

Ludleth blinked as the harsh swear barreled into him, the fierce scowl set within the boy's features unnerving him as they simply stared at each other for a few moments.

"You know what? Forget I said anything."

Swiftly, the undead turned on his heel and hopped down from the ledge his throne sat upon, landing with a quiet thud. An anger not his own guided his actions as he climbed the steps of the shrine and made his way back to Gundyr's arena, picking up the blade in favor of the shield on his way out. The very earth beneath his feet cowered as he marched toward the placement of the coiled sword, stepping over the corpses of the Grave Wardens along the way. His mind blank except for what laid ahead of him, the teen made his way past the massive double doors and into the middle of the arena. Then, he stopped, all foreign emotions fleeing his mind as he beheld the sword sticking from the earth, the barest of embers licking at him, almost as if it were whispering to him.

 _What am I doing?_

Rationality coursed through his brain like clockwork as he stared at the blade in all its rusted scarlet glory. If it was necessary to figure out more about where he was, then… then he had to.

Gripping the hilt of the blade with a sigh, he spoke softly, "Sorry Gundyr, I hope you'll understand." He pulled it from its resting place, watching as the small flames died out, leaving the place barren and strangely… cold, moreso than the passing breeze should've allowed. Resisting a shiver, he began to make his way back to the shrine, a shred of doubt and regret slinking into the back of his mind as he came upon the entrance.

" _Grrr…"_

A scowl found its way onto his face when he glanced to his right, saffron eyes staring into the soulless pits where the zombified hound's eyes were supposed to be. Unbidden, it barked at him and lunged, teeth barred. Even through all this, he felt no anger, but rather annoyance at the canine. Dropping both blades to the ground, he raised a tightened tanned fist and threw it, knuckles connecting with its snout, sending it tumbling into the shrine with a sharp whine, its sound silencing abruptly as it landed within.

The Fire Keeper heard the thud sound within the shrine a ways from her and lifted a brow, the soft glow of a young flame appearing within her vast world of darkness.

"Damnit!", wistfully, she heard the pissed ash enter the shrine once more, loud stomps resonating with her as she spectated the scene playing out before her quietly. "This is the third time you've tried to sink your teeth into my fucking face!" The residents of the shrine watched him approach the hound angrily and lean down toward it, a scowl that would make gods think twice written upon his face. "CUT THE SHIT OUT AND FUCKING YIELD!" The thunderous roar made the temple shake, eliciting a scared whimper from the dog as it cowered form him, even as he passed it and plunged the coiled blade into the pile of ashes, wholeheartedly ignoring the blaze at his feet as he was unwillingly whisked away from them in a miasma of dandelion yellow smoke.

Apprehensively, Andre began to stand, hammer in hand as he stared at the hostile entity stalking toward the Fire Keeper, following her toward the steps that she sat upon. But, to everyone's surprise- _and I mean everyone_ -the skin dried husk of a canine whimpered and sat beside the Keeper, laying its head calmly in her lap, the holes that would've housed its eyes closing slowly as she laid a hand on its head, soft snores echoing throughout the shrine.

"Well I'll be…", the blacksmith whispered at the spectacle, a smirk adorning his face when the maiden in question tilted her head in his direction.

Of course she knew.

She always knew.

 _A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this latest installment, but besides that I hope you guys also enjoy the preview!_

 _The slug-like creature stared at the spectacle that entered its domain and balked, the mouth of its puppet actually falling slack as it watched the legion pour in through its veritable fog wall. It looked on as the Host of Ember strolled through, powerful greatsword in hand, with a scowl on their face._

 _As the legion followed, it could almost see their powerful determination peeling off of them._

 _It made it hungry._

 _Lifting its spear it pointed it at the ember standing before it, channeling some sorcery into it, the violet energies swirling around it intensely as it built up to launch the first shot to kick off the battle._

 _Briefly, it saw the power welling up beneath that human visage as they raised a fist, head hanging, in a silent resolve._

 _It was quick, the decisive battle was._

 _The battalion that'd crossed into its threshold were indeed not phantoms as it previously assumed, but were solid warriors who fought to the death._

 _But, then the ember's blade ignited and the arena went up in flames._

 _It saw its own flesh burn away as it fought for its life against the Host of Embers._

 _But, it was too much._

 _The warriors that bore those blasted cone shaped helms were something it'd never seen before, using techniques born from the minds of those that'd practiced them over the course of multiple lifetimes._

 _Then, that fiery blade descended upon it and the puppeteer of Gwyndolin fell._

 _Aldrich, The Devourer of Gods perished for all of eternity._


	3. The Feeling

_**Bonfire**_

 _ **A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry it's super late but, like I said, these updates are gonna be few and far between, at least for now that is because the college process is kicking my ass as of this moment. Anyway, this chapter can be a filler or it can be a pivotal point in the story, it's all up to perception really. Aside from that, I really hope you guys like it! Now, without further adieu, I present to you the third chapter in Bonfire, The Feeling!**_

 _The Feeling_

" _You will find no Lords here… they have left…"_

 _~?_

Stab. Slash. Stab. Slash.

The endless mantra played over and over again in her head as they made their way through the Road of Sacrifices and slowly into the Halfway Fortress. The massive halberd slammed into the last Corvian's sternum before a clean slash courtesy of her straight sword sent it's head rolling to the mossy earth below. Her companion stepped over the body alongside her as it poofed into a cloud of thick, inky darkness, it's black essence clearing as they made their way down the stairs.

Horace tapped the bonfire for her as she sat on a nearby rock, the embers igniting brightly as he made his way over to her. Standing beside her, she could hear his sharp, ragged breaths echoing through his heavy armour. Her lungs weren't nearly as deprived as she'd mainly been dealing fatal blows on their journey whilst her friend had focused on the majority of the damage, slashing and impaling the hollow creatures. Just the thought made her shiver as she heard the loud clunk of his executioner set tackle the ground, glancing at his seated position before looking down at her hands.

 _Hollow._

The word and all the memories and implications that came with them made the dirty blonde hairs on the back of her neck stand, the very marrow in her bones chilling at the very thought of it. A soul lost to the darksign with no semblance of self to link it to the flame. Anri almost lost her lunch at the prospect of becoming one before she felt a squeeze on her shoulder. Looking over, she saw Horace's reassuring gaze despite it being shadowed by his helm. Smiling, she took her own helmet off, letting her golden locks sway free from the confines of her somewhat loose ponytail as she breathed in the fresh air of the entrance to the Great Swamp.

Their journey was nearing its end, she could feel it.

They would kill Aldrich for all that creature had done to them.

" _Oh, you're a funny fucker, huh?"_

Eyes of crystalline blue widened as she looked up, her head swiveling as she glanced from left to right, checking every direction for the culprit. When she found none, she looked down to her hand. ' _Have I finally begun to slip?'_ She questioned her sanity, a breathy sigh escaping her pink lips. Gods, how long had it been since she fled Astora with her companion in search for the Devourer of Gods? Too long. She was but a child, too young to face the world's evils, but she braved them anyway, she had too. She was just happy she wasn't alone in her endeavor.

" _Begone evil pupper!"_

The voice echoed in her mind again-it couldn't have come from around her because Horace didn't hear it and if he did, he gave no indication of it. So, instead of questioning the livelihood of her mentality, she listened closely to the voice, sapphire orbs closing in concentration.

" _Ah… wait, we can talk this out can't we?"_

Amusement split her face with a grin as she pictured the embodiment of the voice reasoning with an enemy, backing into a corner, defenseless.

" _H-hey, what-! Ah, fuck! Bad doggo!"_

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a laugh as her imagination allowed the disembodied voice to take shape in her mind and run from a Starved Hound. But, that was before it's next words.

" _Suck my dick, doggo!"_

Eyes widened sharply as the connection was broken, her concentration lost as a thin pink blush spread across her cheeks at the vulgarity of his words. Propping herself up with a hand, Anri leaned back on the stone, shaking his last few words from her mind. She couldn't help but wonder who the voice belonged to. It seemed… young. At least, younger than the likes of the few sane fellows left alive that she'd run into on her way here aside from Horace and herself.

Bah.

She figured she'd meet them soon enough.

Fate had a funny way of playing with her recently.

So, she figured she'd wait.

No harm done, right?

 _(Undead Settlement)_

Beads of sweat poured down his head as he fell into a stance, the reasonably sized greatsword in his possession wedged firmly in his grasp, the tip of the blade pointed fiercely as the Manhunter Servant stared at him from across the path. It's cage clinked with every step as it lumbered forward with its hollowed hands wrapped firmly around the handles of its massive saw.

Hawkwood nearly crumbled at the sight of its glowing scarlet orbs bearing down on him.

Steeling his resolve, he wiped a hand over his dirtied forehead, cleansing it of the sweat while also smearing the grime on it. Plucking his ever so faithful flask from his hip, he drank, the last sip swimming past his mouth, down his throat and into the pits of his stomach. The taste having become bland after drinking it over and over for so long, he grimaced as the tasteless fluid slid down his throat, but quickly got over it as his wounds healed, gashes sealing themselves up as they knit back together by the power of all the magic properties that came with downing a glass of estus.

Tightening his grip, the Deserter pushed a foot forward, tentatively, fearfully, eyes locked onto the bloodied blades of the massive cleaver sitting neatly in the Hollow's hands.

" _Okay, you can do this."_

The former Abyss Watcher blinked, the pervading voice lingering in the back of his mind. Was it talking to him?

" _You got this."_

He was convinced when the voice spoke it's next words, putting one foot over the other with confidence and pride rather than fear and anguish. Staring down the Manhunter Servant with such ferocity it backed down for but a moment. Despite having shirked his duties as a Watcher of The Abyss, Hawkwood would make it to the Kiln. He felt it deep within his soul. He would link the flame and earn his rest.

" _Alright big guy, c'mere."_

Receiving confidence from the foreign voice, he walked forward with a powerful gait, the Bastard Sword poised to kill. The hollow lunged forward.

So did he.

" _Hyah!"_

"Hah!"

Rolling underneath the dangerously savage swing of the bloodied saw, he put all of his strength into a wide downward slash. Cleaving through the hollow like a hot knife through butter, Hawkwood forced the greatsword through its left shoulder and out of its right hip, delighting in the squelching sound of steel ripping through flesh, muscle, and bone with satisfying ease, onyx viscera spraying from in between the bisected creature. The saw fell from its grasp as the top half slid from the bottom, falling to the ground with a wet _slap._ His eyes widened when it poofed into a cloud of pitch black smoke before the atmosphere diluted it and it dissipated into nothingness.

Hawkwood found his mouth hanging slightly at the prospect of what had happened rather than the fact that it happened at all.

" _YES!"_

As if the cheering voice in his head was a cue, the Deserter found himself smiling, a broad toothy grin splitting his dirt ridden visage in half. Yes, he could do it. He had faith, he had hope, and he had the blade of the bastard at his side along with his trusty shield. He felt his pride swell from within the confines of his chest, despite the empty feeling the darksign left behind when he thought about the pitch black hole emblazoned on his core. He would face his old friends and return them to their throne so he could earn his rest.

It would be a long and arduous journey, but, he accepted that fate when he laid down his Farron Greatsword.

It would be glorious.

It would be well-deserved.

It would be… short?

Suddenly and without warning, the former Watcher found his cheek pressed against the mossy earth below his feet. But most peculiar about it was he could swear those were his dirty boots staring back at him. Looking up and up and _up_ , he found the answer he desired. His body, missing it's cranium, stood, wavering from the lack of commands to keep it upright, spurting various amounts of crimson essence in various intervals from his neck, staining his shoulder plate and drowning his collar in precious life blood.

That's when he saw the massive saw blade.

He blinked once. 

Then, the realization came. 

There were _two_ of them.

He blinked again, empty eyes opening to find himself sitting by the bonfire, a tight feeling in his neck, causing him to rub it unconsciously as the light of the flame reflected in his hollow orbs all the while keeping his immortal coil warm.

Just like that the hope and faith shattered like so much glass.

Standing he touched the twisted blade, the familiar miasma of dandelion yellow surrounding him, briefly blinding the man before it vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him in a different setting. He saw the blind woman regard him briefly, the intricate design of her silver visor gleaming from the light of the flame as a somewhat sad look set itself on her face as if she knew what he had decided before the words fled from his lips. As ever none needed to be said.

Of course she knew.

 _She always knew._

Walking up the steps to the right of the thrones, he detached the shield from his back and gingerly placed it and the massive blade upon the ground of the shrine beside him, casting it away for the final time.

No more, he told himself.

" _No more."_

 _(The Giant's Tower)_

Siegward was confused.

Perplexed, really.

For the life of him, the warrior of Catarina could not find how that giant had managed to make his way to the top of the tower. He'd searched everywhere, from the base of the building, through the entirety of the basement, all the way to the bonfire at the beginning of the Road of Sacrifices. He wished to converse with the massive creature, to befriend him and halt the hail of spear sized arrows. It was rather annoying being pelted with a massive projectiles every five seconds when trying to walk through a path. The hollows were one thing, his trusty zweihander could cleave through them as easily as a bird could cut through the air, but when those spears from a third party come crashing down all around him in the midst of battle, it made him frustrated.

He heard word of a stray Pyro Demon roaming about somewhere nearby, but then, there was the problem at hand first.

Allowing the wooden elevator to take him back to ground level, he walked over to the stairs and sat, placing his greatsword and Pierce Shield on the ground beside him as he let himself drift in his thoughts.

More specifically toward his promise.

Unclipping the other blade from his back, Siegward pulled the Storm Ruler to his front, laying it on his lap. He ran a hand over the flat of the giant killing greatsword, a sad smile gracing his lips as he thought back to the times he spent with his greatest friend, Yhorm. It would be some time before the Warrior of Catarina would make it to the Profaned Capital, but he didn't mind. For his sake, he would keep the promise. He gave his word from the bottom of his soul of souls that he would end the Lord of Cinder's eternal suffering when the time came.

" _Look, you wanna know why I keep going?"_

The knight almost didn't catch the words of the invading voice piercing through his mind, he was so deep in thought.

" _No, I don't care about that anymore. I keep going because there are people out there that need help."_

Siegward blinked.

He let the words sink in. Was this his subconscious voicing itself to him? He thought the back of his mind wouldn't sound so… young.

" _I don't know if you've seen the world out there, but those Hollow things are everywhere and the little bit of sane people that are left are either thieves or defenseless souls."_

He nodded. He agreed, but, he couldn't help himself but disagree in the same vein. There had to be others like him, right? Chivalrous souls with a purpose. There had to be.

Right?

" _I do it to protect them because who else will? But, it's more than that."_

The bulbous armored knight could've sworn he'd heard a second voice there for a moment, muffled though it may have been, and he was prepared to voice his thoughts, but thought better of it. His subconscious was clearly trying to tell him something, so who was he to interrupt?

" _If you have the power, you have the obligation-the responsibility-to protect those without. You have an unspoken duty to do what's right not because you're told to or because you should, but, because you can."_

Siegward smiled inwardly at the revelation. The voice was right. He felt the same way about the world, but he could never put those thoughts to words and coax others into his way of thinking, at least in that aspect anyway. But, now that he heard them, he realized he couldn't have said it any better. With a determined nod, he stood, clipping the Storm Ruler to his back once again as he grabbed his zweihander and shield from the ground once more, turning to the elevator.

He had a promise to keep, but, first was the challenge set before him.

He had a feeling he'd figure it out soon.

" _So don't give up. Go out there and do what you gotta do because that's the only way."_

"Oh, how right you are my dear friend."

Besides, despite the fact he asked him to, if he couldn't figure out how a damn elevator worked, how worthy was he of taking the life of his best friend?


	4. Coming To Grips

_**Bonfire**_

 _ **A/N: Hey guys! Sorry, I know it's been a while, but, here it is! I don't actually have any sort of schedule in place as of yet, so I don't really know when the next chapter of anything will be up, but, I'm working on it, I swear! Sorry if it's a little short. Anyway, hope you enjoy. So, without further adieu, I present the fourth chapter of Bonfire, Coming To Grips!**_

 _Coming To Grips_

" _It does go up, see?"_

 _~?_

When the Fire Keeper finally met her Chosen Ash, she was ecstatic. She had barely been able to reign in her glee when he all but fell into the shrine before her and then called her _beautiful._ A feeling completely alien to her fluttered through the core when her champion stood before in awe. She tried her best to ignore the comment despite her like for the new sensation bubbling in her core.

She explained to him that he needed to produce the blade that kept Gundyr stationary and he broke down. She couldn't see the tears that ran down his face, but she could hear the sobs rock his body. Apparently, Andre had heard them as well. She heard him stop his smithing and felt the vibrations in the earth from said action stop entirely. Eventually, her champion had a talk with both him and the tiny lord taking residence upon his throne. She had taken a seat on the stairs by the cold fire pit before she nearly jumped at his outburst.

The Keeper of the flame felt and most certainly _heard_ the rather young ash storm out the shrine grabbing the sword he'd dropped on his initial way in in favor of the shield so he could return to the halberd-wielder's grave and procure the coiled sword that he'd left for a reason she couldn't fathom. Soon after he returned only to race past them and stab at the bonfire before fading away, presumably to Lothric.

Then, almost instantly, as if they were trading places, another traveled into the shrine, a watcher of the abyss that abandoned the legion. The Fire Keeper gave him a sympathetic look before he sat by himself on the opposite side of the shrine, discarding his blade and shield so he could rest with his head in his hands.

But, that was besides the point.

She hadn't expected her Chosen Ash to be… to be so… my, what was the word? Emotional. Ah yes, emotional. He was very expressive of his feelings for an undead if she used her experience as a baseline. But, that only proved her suspicions that he was something special. That he would be the one to sustain the flame and keep the world from plunging into the dark like hers had when she had been assigned the task of tending to the Fire.

Eyes were forbidden after all.

She had faith though, that he would complete his task. And when it came time for him to grow, she would be here for him to strengthen his soul.

She might not be able to do much, but, she would help the best she could in his journey to return the Lords to their thrones.

Oh, did she mention the dog?

She loved dogs.

 _(…)_

He sat on his the throne of his castle restlessly, sitting up as straight as he could in anxiety. He'd halted his daily life ministrations ever since he felt the soul of Gundyr become cleansed of his disease. The Ashen One had begun their journey to bring him back to prolong the Age of Fire. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't scared of what was most possibly to come. His excuse for not returning to reignite the first flame was always because he supposedly knew better, that if the Age of Dark was to finally be ushered unto the world, then the Age of Man could fix it; that man would push back the Abyss to create a brighter world.

And he truly did believe in that, but, the bigger reason was because he actually valued his life.

Sure, he had his brother here to protect him with his life, but, he honest to Gwyn didn't think even their combined might could take down a determined Champion. With how weak he was and considering Lorian was all but crippled and not to mention the Chosen Ash all but had the strength of the flame guiding them with just a dash of _immortality_ on their side, it was only a matter of time before his time was up.

Lothric held his head in his dainty hands, closing his eyes as he slowed his breathing.

No. It didn't matter how much the Ash had on their side, he couldn't let the world go on the way it'd been any longer. In order to pour more fuel into the first flame, they had to get past him, and Prince Lothric would _not_ go down without a fight.

 _(…)_

When the bonfire propelled him into one of the small towers atop the foot of the High Wall, he sat on the grate he was dropped on and let the waterworks flow. Yeah he poured his heart out before, but, the sheer gravity of the situation was just too much to bear. The fact that this- _all of this!_ -wasn't a dream and was in fact reality, left his mind reeling and his emotions coiling.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Conner turned it on and with a touch of his thumb over the home button, he watched the interface slide into view. Wiping the cascade of tears from his face, he navigated into his photo gallery and lightly tapped a picture and watched it bloat up to fill the screen.

A sob promptly rocked his body to the core.

Through a pair of hazy golden orbs, he looked at the happy faces of the figures in the picture. Two woman stood between two men, each shorter than the last, but not necessarily in that order. On the far left stood a bald and pale white, tall man, nearly eight feet in his own right, wearing a specially tailored slate black suit. Beside him was a girl wearing what looked like a school uniform complete with a verdant green blazer and an onyx skirt that reaches down to her knees. Her long waist-length black hair that framed her face only served to further accentuate her striking emerald eyes. On the second from the right stood a woman only slightly taller than the other girl in the picture with a bob of thick shoulder length jet black hair that framed a fair skinned heart shaped face. She appeared rather young with her sky blue sundress blowing to the side as she held her hands together in front of her with a bright smile full of teeth lightening up the rest of the photograph, but, if one were to look close enough they'd see the expertly concealed bags under her eyes that'd accumulated through age. On the far right stood a man taller than the two women, but still a ways to go before matching up with the other man. A few bangs of his short and slightly spiky ashen black hair hung over his forehead and slightly obscured his hazel eyes while he held his hands in the pocket of his paper white pullover.

Conner stared at the picture of him smiling back at himself.

This was back when he graduated from high school, more specifically the day he left to go to college.

He stared at the smile that matched his mother's beside him. Conner couldn't make a bigger difference in their expressions if he tried. He looked at their smiling faces and wept at the thought of never being able to see them again. He shook with sorrow yet again before a voice- _that same damn voice!_ -spoke to him in a hushed manner as if trying to hide from something.

Of course, that didn't come to mind until later.

" _Do not worry young one, you will find your answers if you press on."_

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Conner shut the device off to preserve battery and thought about what the voice told him. He… honestly didn't know what to think of it. He'd long since ruled out the possibility of his insanity and after what he saw oozing from Gundyr, he figured magic or some semblance of it existed here. But, that only served to fuel the question of _where exactly is here?_ Briefly he took note of how well he was taking the situation at hand, but quickly snuffed it out of his mind as he navigated the mental picture of his family from the grief box and into the motivation folder. This was no time for weakness, it was time for strength. Time to focus on what was ahead of him. He had no choice but to listen to the voice. If it told him that he could find the answers he so desperately craved than he ought to listen shouldn't he?

Picking up the shining shield and the whipping the sword to rid it of the blood of his adversaries, he braved the outside world, pushing the door before him open and promptly pushing the twisted sword sticking out of the ground further into the earth, watching the sparks ignite before the small inferno at his feet swirled into existence to provide him with warmth and guidance.

Then, he looked up.

And promptly walked back into the tower, shutting the door behind him.

Turning, he opened the door to peek again, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn't having delusions.

Then, he closed it again.

Open. Closed. Open. _Closed. Open._

…

Closed.

…

 _Open._

Was that a _fucking dragon?!_

 _Closed._

Well, he could polish hyperventilating off the ol' bucket list.

Gripping his chest through the ripped remains of his white v-neck, he struggled to slow his breathing, his face growing red through the process. He barely caught it when a slight burning sensation trickled through his chest to extend outwards and slow his breathing for him. A real, live- _relative, that term was nowadays_ -fuck mothering dragon! For god's sake this day just kept getting better and better! It was then he noticed, he'd all but clawed what was left of his ripped tee to shreds, bits of cloth still hanging from beneath his respectively short fingernails. Couldn't rightly use that anymore now could he? Sliding the cloth hanging loosely from his shoulders off of him, he nearly began hyperventilating again. No, that would be a pleasant surprise because then he would still be _awake._

Because, there was a rather large, rather unsettling, pitch black _hole in his chest._

The sword and shield clattered to the ground beside him as Conner slumped to ground, unconscious.

 _And thus, the second bonfire was lit._

 _ **A/N: So? Whaddya think? Leave a review and let me know if you'd be so kind. Now, enjoy the preview(s)!**_

 _He fidgeted under her stare, face as red as a tomato as she stared at him with those eyes he swore left, right, and center that could see everything._

 _"What is this?"_

 _Steam practically erupted from his ears as the crackle of the bonfire at his back broke through the oncoming silence like a gunshot in the night._

 _"It's... well..."_

 _His eyes traveled down to her hand to see her holding it out to him, general curiosity managing to goad the full force of his embarrassment. How could he explain this without seeming like a selfish fool?_

 _"From where I come from, a man gives a woman a ring when..."_

 _He explained the rest to her, quick enough that his embarrassment died down a bit while he watched her own face heat up. She looked at the golden band cradled in her hand before looking back up at him._

 _Wordlessly, she slipped it on before lunging at him._

 _A voice rang out in the distance, "That's my boy!"_

 _(...)_

 _He looked up._

 _And up._

 _And up again._

 _A whistle broke through the storm as the massive creature leered down at him, big beady eyes examining him frivolously._

 _"Well, you're a big fucker aren'tcha?"_

 _The spear came sailing at him first, the telltale crackle of pure energy warning him of the hailstorm of lightning bearing down on him. He dodged, bobbed, and weaved, those few months of training serving their purpose, as he rolled underneath an overhead horizontal swing before launching himself up into the air, narrowly avoiding the fireball._

 _He couldn't, however, dodge the massive reptile barreling into him at top speed._

 _The knight hung on for dear life, wheezing, gasping desperately for air as the wind was quickly and forcefully knocked out of him in one foul swoop._ _It was when the dragon landed and tried to forcefully throw him from its head that he realized it._

 _He ruffled a feather out of curiosity and the mighty beast quickly stopped its ministrations, surprise evident in its eyes._

 _The boy smiled when the king of the skies let him down, his body sliding down its sharp beak._ _He quickly returned to ruffling the feathers on its head and neck._

 _"She's so fluffy!"_

 _A silence rang out as the King of The Storm began to purr._

 _"She?"_


	5. The Gift

_**Bonfire**_

 ** _A/N: Hey everybody! I don't really have much to say here besides the fact that the majority of everything to come after this chapter has been thought through. Thoroughly? No, but, I have gotten major events written down. I hope you enjoy! Now, without further adieu, I present to you the fifth chapter in Bonfire, The Gift!_**

 _The Gift_

" _Your hands… what happened?"_

 _~?_

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

 _Tap._

The corpses littering the ground at his feet were of little concern as he tentatively poked it with the tip of his blade. A sigh promptly broke through his lips as he stepped back to admire the very real and _very dead_ corpse laying across the head of a whole tower not unlike the one he arrived in. A pang of… of _something_ rocked through his core when he looked too deep into those dull grey orbs that lost their light a while ago. It wasn't relief, Conner knew that much. Was it sadness? He guessed it could've been. The amber eyed boy had always wanted to see a dragon in person, if only out of curiosity. "For science!", he always loved to tell himself. Touching a hand to the grand scales sticking out in every direction possible from its head to give it a menacing look, he nearly recoiled when he made a new revelation.

It was _cold._

Like, really cold. Like, human corpse cold, but, multiply that by the biggest number you could think of. He hissed in pain when he looked down at his fingers and noted the slight blue discoloration on their tips. It shouldn't be this cold. Consequences and magic be damned it shouldn't be this cold! A massive dead body in this heat? No. It made little to zero sense the more he thought about it and it just made his brain hurt more. Especially when he factored in the very real fact that it was a dragon.

Meaning it was cold blooded.

' _Ugh. Forget it.'_ , with that thought in mind, he walked past the overgrown lizard and into the tower it laid on.

Walking over the remains of some barrels that he… erm… _may or may not_ have had a hand in helping explode. Leaving his shield clipped onto his backpack, he snatched up a rather eloquently curved dagger considering the condition of the hollow that was holding it. With a sword in one hand and the dagger in the other, he slid down the ladder, almost landing on his arse when he nearly lost his grip because his hands were full. He looked at the dagger and flipped it in his hand, skill he didn't know he had letting him catch it by the blade without so much as nicking his fingertip. Blinking in surprise, he did it again and got the same result which elicited a small laugh from him in disbelief.

There'd been something like that quite a lot since he woke up in this world. Like something was guiding him by the hand and helping him along, but, not too closely. Like how he was able to all but shatter those flaming arrows by flicking his shield at just the right angle at just the right time like he'd done it practically his whole life.

Back on Earth- _because this sure as hell wasn't it, he reminded himself_ -he'd never even seen a sword in person let alone a knight's shield and a fucking crossbow.

That was another thing: he'd never cursed this much a day in his life, if only on occasion when he was hanging out with his friends in a not so public area. This place… it was bringing out the best and the worst in him. Some force was helping him and making him do things he didn't even know he was capable of, but, the atmosphere was doing things to him. Like when he let one rip on Ludleth for giving him a push in the right direction to start his journey. Yeah, it was a really snarky way of getting him to get started, but, it was nothing for him to get so tilted over the way he did. To be completely honest, he didn't even know what he was supposed to be doing. He figured that maybe it had something to do with those bonfires, but, he quickly came to the conclusion that it wasn't. If they needed someone to light those damn things, couldn't they just get someone more qualified and experienced for the job. Not to mention, someone better equipped?.

And then there was _this_ thing.

Looking down at his chest, which he noticed was starting to get a bit leaner since the last time he took a long look at it, he scrunched his face up more in confusion than anything else at the sight of the perfect circle of inky black darkness. It appalled him. It was one of the things that he felt even a concept as wild as magic couldn't just prove away like it was some unimportant common occurrence.

Sighing, he stopped in the doorway leading outside and looked at the sky, thinking about… well, about _everything._ His family, this world, the dead dragon, the Fire Keeper _,_ that _goddamned dog_ , the blacksmith, the other dragon leering down at him now…

Wait, _what?_

Big, tall, and scaly was, in fact, looking down at him from the tower past the stairs before him. Big, beady black eyes stared at him as that massive maw of its opened up before him. Small- _what were those, nozzles?_ -holes beneath its snake-like tongue exuded some kind of forest green smoke and a smell not unlike that of methane flew up his nose.

 _Ssss._

A blaze of reds and oranges and yellows lit up the world around him and scorched his skin. The force of the blast of flames propelled him back inside, making the young brunette smack against the far wall, a strangled shout of pain and surprise leaping from his lips as he slumped to the ground. A great pain in his chest kept him awake, making him keep his eyes open while his body did it's best to fight through the agony running up and down his spine.

 _Clink._

 _Clink._

 _Clink._

Conner almost didn't register the clatter of something made of glass beside him as the flames let up and extinguished into mere embers before his very eyes. He slowly glanced up at the fearsome reptile across the way through a hazy eye, the other being shut to prevent the trail of blood sliding down his forehead from getting in it, and took note that the dragon no longer wanted anything to do with him as it was now preoccupied with torching the undead lumbering through the pass beside the stairs. The powerful blaze reflected in his pained eyes as he lay there, his heartbeat slowing. Glancing off to the side, he idly wondered what that clattering was all about. That's when the beautiful sight of that magical liquid graced his eyes.

 _"Drink it."_

That voice told him, urged him, all but demanding he drink from the golden flask. He reached desperately for it with all of his remaining strength, teeth gritted in pain as his scorched skin rubbed against the ashen earth below sending pain shooting through his arm. Grasping the glass as firmly as he could, he pulled it up to his face and downed it without a second thought, relishing in the taste that was as unfamiliar as it was amazing. It was astonishingly invigorating. Like, imagine if Gatorades actually made you feel like how all those advertisements said they would.

Dropping the glass to his side, he suddenly felt a cooling sensation wash over his whole body, blotting out the agonizing burning he'd been feeling only moments before. Idly, the amber-eyed teen looked down at his chest in surprise and confusion when he saw a saffron glow overpower his torso and spread through his limbs, mending his wounds, stitching muscle and tissue back together before his very eyes. He hissed as a sharp pain rocked his shoulder when a particularly thick piece of muscle tissue stitched itself back together and tightened fiercely back in place. But, before the godly drink could invigorate him any further, the Darksign branding his chest threw a brief pulse of darkness over him, canceling it out and preventing the Estus from repairing anything more than it already had. Fortunately, it'd already done more than enough.

Standing without anything even resembling effort, Conner looked down at his down at his bare chest and nearly bare legs in wonder. It felt like he damn near went back in time with how good he felt, excluding his pants that were now jean shorts. But, something was definitely off.

He felt… _cold._

Maybe the frost coming from his hands could explai- _what?_

For the second time in about fifteen minutes, the otherworldly teenager did a double take. He wasn't wrong. He sure as hell wished he was, though. Honest to God, _frost_ was coming off of his hands. It left his arms cold, not numb, just cold. But, in a nice way. Waving his hand about, he watched the icy mist stick in the air as a trail behind the appendage before dissipating into the atmosphere.

A smile etched itself on his face.

" _Magic…",_ he whispered to himself in astonishment. Pressing a hand against the wall, Conner watched it freeze over, a thin layer of ice covering the masonry as quickly as he could blink. That's when his legs started to move. Back to the bonfire. He _had_ to see what he could do with this. And the best way to do that would be to test it out where there wasn't a massive dragon ready to torch him at a moments notice and thankfully, it didn't seem to care much for him now that he'd crossed the threshold back to the other tower.

Interestingly enough, these new abilities of his didn't seem to affect the glass of the flask in his hand. He looked at it intensely and saw a few details that made him blink. It was, for all intents and purposes, shattered. Well, maybe that wasn't the best word to describe it. More like broken, or-or something along those lines. Now that he'd downed the entirety of its contents, he could see that the flask was a translucent verdant green color with a very articulate and intricate almost floral-like design etched all around it. Or rather, there was a beautiful design all around the flask where there wasn't irreparable cracks and dents in it. To be honest, it was a mystery to him in how it was still holding together in the first place, but, the mist crawling off of his fingers coupled with the memory of the taste of the golden liquid quickly reminded him of the reason that made the most sense.

Shaking his head, he looked to opposite tower that he purposely left alone and the bonfire by his feet. Then, to his frosty hands and back to the blade and shield hanging from his backpack that was surprisingly unscathed after all this time. Setting his jaw, he tightened the straps on his bag to keep it from shifting and set out down the stairs by the black stained tower. Conner looked at it tentatively as he neared it, taking notice of the splatters of inky darkness littering the stones that made up the walls of the short structure.

Along with the broken bodies lining the pathway to it.

A shiver ran up his newly healed spine at the sight of the mangled corpses. Pure experience and that force he mentioned earlier helped in the way of numbing his senses to the sight and smell of dead bodies, but this level of dismemberment and savagery got to him in a way that sending souls back to hell by his own blade didn't.

Reaching the stairs, he lowered himself to a crouch, slowly climbing the steps. Surrounded by piles of lifeless bodies lay a single soul. He knelt there, bloodied hands laying on the ground facing the sky as it twitched every few seconds. The idea of it crying was not lost on him, having witnessed its true form earlier, but, when it did dawn on him, the creature looked up, empty black pits where its eyes should've been boring into his soul as he stood there, frosty fingers clenching in anticipation.

Suddenly, Conner found himself covering his ears in pain as an alien like screech tore through the air, preventing him from focusing. He didn't notice that the magicks given to him were all but gone until it was too late.

"Fuck me!"

A flash of steel prevented the creature's massive maw from biting down on him, the oddly reptile-like head of the Pus of Man fighting against his blade in a battle of wills as its host stood still, lacking any movement whatsoever. Gritting his teeth, he put his weight on his front foot and pushed back with a sharp exhale, sending it flying back like a popped balloon.

But, just like a pendulum, albeit an upside down one, it came flying back, an inhuman roar signalling its fast approach. With superb balance and timing that he was sort of getting used to by now, he sidestepped the ground pound and sent a downward slash into its elongated neck, sending onyx viscera flying as a pained screech greeted his ears. With speed he didn't predict it to have, it whipped back at him, sending him flying into the wall behind it, causing him to lose his grip on the sword.

"Ah!", Bouncing off the wall, Conner dropped to his hands and knees, but, he was quick to return to his feet and hop over the creature's attempt to tackle him. Grabbing his sword on the way over it, he sliced through it again, using gravity to his advantage as he sent a quick swipe to its eye with the dagger he'd stowed in the side pocket of his bag, watching as a spatter of black blood hit the ground by his feet.

Instantly, he made way for the host, sliding under another attempt at his life, he went to bring his sword down on the scrawny body of the Pus of Man, but, then he lost his balance when it _sidestepped him._ He stared at it incredulously as he tumbled to the ground, falling flat on his face. Flipping over, he saw the monster bearing down on him and the golden-eyed teen knew he didn't have time to swing the sword to block. Instinct took over and he held his other hand out before him and shut his eyes, letting loose a shout.

" _No!"_

…

Nothing came.

Slowly-cautiously!-he opened his eyes half expecting the savage beast to wait for him to watch it rip him apart.

Instead, a he sat there with wide eyes beholding a glorious sight.

The Pus of Man was there alright. Was Conner sure if it was alive? Not at the moment, no. With the massive maw of the beast inches away from biting at his vulnerable flesh, it stood there frozen in time, a light blue coating of some rather thick ice compared to what covered the wall back in the other tower stuck to it like a second skin with spikes shooting out of it in several directions from random parts of its body while that telltale icy mist slowly cascaded off of its form.

Looking down at his hands, the teen blinked. Okay, before the frost just made his hands feel a nice cold sensation, but, now he felt like he was in a blizzard, one that made him feel absolutely fantastic. Normally, he had a pretty tan complexion, but, his fingertips were positively _white_ now that he could see them through the mist. Flexing his fingers, he found that they worked and he could still feel them okay. He figured it was just an aesthetic look for the magic.

Conner looked back up at the grand ice sculpture before him, a small grin adorning his features as he looked at the lone, scarred red eye within glaring at him for all it was worth before he looked back down at his hands.

"Huh, so that's what you can do…"

 _ **A/N: Hey guys! Did ya enjoy the chapter? Lemme know what you thought in the reviews, I've got quite the plotline set up and ready to go, now all that's left is for it to be written. With that out of the way, enjoy the preview(s)! Don't take them TOO seriously. Or do. It's whatever.** _

_(Preview)_

 _He sat back in his chair, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he looked at his handiwork with a bright smile._

" _What is it?"_

 _He turned to look at her, his smile growing wider-if that were even possible!-as he held up his so called "masterpiece". He was some kind of tinkerer as she'd come to known him, always looking at things with a meticulous eye. Every now and then when the bandit returned, he'd take whatever they didn't find useful and turn it into something maddening. Little machinations littered the shrine at every turn, some that made things easier like that "clock" that told the time of day, but, others…_

 _Well, others just made no sense for existing._

 _And one look at all those spiders that littered his desk that looked to be squeezed dry and all but dead told her this one would be just as much._

" _I think this may be the best thing I've ever made."_

" _Really, now?", She blinked at how convinced he was that his statement was true. Curiously, she watched him attach the gauntlet like device to his arm, black malleable steel wrapping around his forearm nice and snugly. Distantly, she heard a hardy laugh from the blacksmith down the hall. She'd no idea where he found the materials for bendable steel, but, they'd done it, the Ash and Andre._

" _You might wanna…", when he made a sweeping motion with his hand, she obeyed quietly and stepped beside him and out of the way._

 _He pointed his arm at the tiny lord perched atop his throne with his hand turned to the sky, a smile gracing his features._

" _Hey, Ludleth!"_

 _He turned to regard them._

" _Yes, Unkindled? How may I be of servi-!"_

 _Thwip!_

" _Gah! What sorcery is this?!"_

 _(…)_

" _I've always liked the moon better."_

 _The man stood there, a ghastly expression written on his face, as though he'd just heard words that he never thought he'd ever have the pleasure of hearing._

" _B-but, but-!"_

 _He stood there, hands in his pockets with half-lidded eyes and an eyebrow raised in mild curiosity._

" _But…?"_

 _The man fixed the bucket on his head, a small huff escaping his lips as he spread his arms out beside him, lifting them to the sky at a diagonal angle. With the sight of the bonfire beside him coupled with the sunrise at his back, he made for quite the imposing sight. Until he opened his mouth._

" _Praise the sun!"_

 _He just stood there, hand on his forehead while he shook his head in exasperation._


End file.
